Untitled
by tahiri4
Summary: This is meant to be an alternate ending/deleted scene sort of story for "O Brother Where Bart Thou?" Blair and Chuck talk after the hugging scene towards the end of the show. Spoilers for that episode if you haven't seen it.


**SPOILERS **for episode 2x13, "O Brother Where Bart Thou?" Don't read any further.

Author's Note: This is meant to be set right after the hugging scene towards the end of "O Brother Where Bart Thou?" Complies to canon up until the leaving at the very end.

Disclaimer: 'Gossip Girl' belongs to Cecily von Ziegesar, Josh Schwartz, and the CW. No infringement intended.

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He rolled onto his back beside her. She curled around him, resting her arm across his chest and her head on his shoulder. The arm not wrapped around her body rested across his eyes, shielding his tear-reddened eyes from sight. He was done crying, at least for now.

"I've got some things I want to say." A few of them were things he needed to say to her, a few just in general, but if anyone should hear them, it was Blair. "If you don't mind, I mean," he added hesitantly. Just because she had held him while he cried for the better part of an hour without saying anything didn't mean that he wasn't still highly uncomfortable with this level of intimacy.

"Of course I don't mind," she said without hesitation. She leaned up on her elbow to look at him. His arm still obscured most of his face. She wasn't sure what he was thinking. She knew what she wanted him to say, of course, but she didn't think that would be it. At least not right now.

He didn't reply right away, and she was beginning to wonder if he had changed his mind when he suddenly spoke.

"My father…." He paused, reassessing what he had to say. "For most of my life, I thought that my father hated me because I killed the only woman he would ever love." He paused again, feeling her tense against him. He knew she was ready to jump in and deny it, but she held back, waiting for him to continue.

"My mother died giving birth to me. Besides you, I've only told one other person that in my whole life. My father, he always told me to say she died in a plane crash when I was very young. I don't really know why he needed to lie, but I did it anyway because he asked me to." He paused again, and she spoke.

"Who else did you tell?"

"Dan Humphrey. We were in prison, and it seemed like a good idea at the time. You know, bonding over the shared experience of sitting in a grimy little cell waiting for your one phone call. But I found out that he was writing a story about my life. He had been playing me the whole time, trying to get under my skin, trying to find out my secret." He took his arm off of his face and stretched it out across the bed, fingers dusting over the silk bedclothes. He turned his face in the same direction as his outstretched arm, away from her attentive gaze. "Trying to find out why I act the way I do."

He let his last sentence hang in the air for a long moment.

"Chuck-" she began, but he cut her off.

"I know, but I'm not finished." She didn't object; she hadn't been sure of what she was going to say anyway. "Back about a week before your birthday, Humphrey was doing it again, getting close to someone in order to find out their secret for a story. Except this time, he was after my father. I found out in time, but it seems that apparently Humphrey had rediscovered his conscious anyway. He gave the story he had written about me to my father." He paused. "Bart… he…. um, he…" Chuck was surprised at how difficult it was for him to say out loud. He brought his hand back to his face and pressed down on his eyes. Blair shifted, looking more directly into his face.

"He told me that he never hated me. He told me that he was only ever distant because I look so much like her that it was hard to look at me." He spoke in a rush, pushing the words out while he still could. He was silent for long time, breathing deeply and trying to push back the tide of feeling that was slowly rising up in him. The arm around Blair gripped her tighter to him, and he could feel her hand fisted in the front of his jacket.

"The problem is," he said eventually. "The problem is that I don't think she looks like me.

"I think she looks like you."

He sat up suddenly, dislodging her from her place resting against his chest, not leaving time for his last statement to sink in properly. She sat up too. He grabbed her shoulders with both hands and then moved one up to her face, holding it to look at him. His gaze was intense; his eyes were burning.

"I want you to know, I love you. I really, really do. But I can't feel that way; I wish I didn't because I'll only hurt you too. I don't mean childbirth specifically, but it was me who called my father to tell him to come to the ball and fight for that whore and it was me who killed my mother. I don't mean for it to happen, but it always does. It's who I am. I mean, I've already hurt you. You are nothing like a racehorse and you don't even come close to deserving being left at a helipad with no warning."

He stopped, still holding her face in his fingers. Her lips were parted slightly as she looked up at him. He let go suddenly, leaning away from her, the energy leaving his body in a rush, leaving him slouched and exhausted. He rested his head in his hands and mumbled.

"I don't know what to do. I can't fix myself. I can't be here. I can't…. I can't love you."

Blair had been staring at him in shock, her mind still trying to wrap around everything he had said to her, but with his last words, she twisted around so that she was kneeling in front of him and pulled his hands away from his face. Her face was mere inches from his. He wouldn't meet her gaze, but he had to understand this. She had to make him understand this.

"Chuck, the worst thing you could do to me is to tell me that you don't love me. I know you and I know the things you do when you are hurt or angry or sad and they can be horrible and mean but I can handle that. What I can't handle is you not being with me. If you don't want to hurt me, then you have got to try this.

"We don't have to go to the movies or hold hands or anything even remotely considered normal, but I will be here when you need me to be, and what I want is for you to be there for me."

He flopped back across the bed, tugging on her arm so that she crawled forward to hover over him. She looked down at him, and he looked back, with all the pain of the last week written clearly across his face.

"Chuck, please."

Her eyes looked close to tears and her brown hair hung down to make a curtain around their faces. She really was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.

"Alright," he said softly. It wasn't that she had changed his mind. It wasn't that she had managed to quell all his fears just like that. But for once, he decided, he would do as she asked. He had tried running away. Even when he knew it was for the best, he still managed to hurt her. Please, let her be right, he thought.

She leaned down to kiss him, and he reached up and wove a hand through her hair. This time, maybe he could really be the better person that she deserved.

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Author's Note: **Please, please, please review.** This is actually the first fanfic I have ever written or posted, so I really would like some critques. Please be honest; writing is not my specialty so I promise I won't be insulted. I just really wanted to express myself about this episode.


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